


The Christmas Cabin

by halcyon1993



Series: The Kinky Adventures of a Wolf and His Boy [46]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Boys In Love, Cabin Fic, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Fluff and Smut, Knotting, M/M, Making Love, Marriage Proposal, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Coital Cuddling, Rimming, Snowball Fight, Snowmen, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 07:43:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16990857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon1993/pseuds/halcyon1993
Summary: For Christmas, Derek whisks his mate away to a remote cabin in the mountains. He has it all planned out: snow, hot chocolate, lovemaking in front of a roaring fire…but most importantly, he has a life-changing question to ask.





	The Christmas Cabin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vergiss_Mein_Nicht](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vergiss_Mein_Nicht/gifts).



> Prepare yourself for what is probably the fluffiest, sappiest thing I've ever written…

Derek has it all planned out, but he's still nervous. The only other person who knows what he's up to is Lydia, who helped him organise everything after he made her promise she wouldn't tell another soul until it was all done and dusted. Not even Jackson. The girl isn't wont to follow orders, so it was a difficult promise to extract. Were there a better option, Derek would've taken it, but Lydia was still the one with the best taste in his pack, and because she and Jackson were the only ones so far who'd tied the knot, she was the only person Derek could ask who had firsthand knowledge of what he wanted to do. He hadn't really had another choice.

His mate deserves nothing but the best, after all.

Presently, it's Christmas Eve and Derek sits behind the wheel of his Camaro with Stiles in the passenger seat next to him. They don't talk, but the silence isn't uncomfortable. After nearly seven years together, things are almost never uncomfortable between them now, which Derek is thankful for every single day.

"You okay?" Stiles asks him suddenly, bringing Derek out of his thoughts.

He glances sideways. "Yeah, of course," he responds. "Why?"

"You're white-knuckling the wheel."

Derek checks, and sure enough, he's gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles have lost all colour. He takes a breath and relaxes his hands, chiding himself for letting his nerves get the better of him. He's being ridiculous. Stiles won't say no. The younger man is already his mate, has been since he turned eighteen six years ago and Derek finally staked his claim with a bite, tying them together in the most permanent way possible. If he looks closely, Derek can see the edge of the scar peeking out from beneath the collar of Stiles' maroon sweater.

"Seriously, what's got you so worked up, Sourwolf?" Stiles presses, putting a hand on Derek's thigh.

"It's nothing, I promise," the Alpha reassures, trying his best not to let his mind linger on the tiny velvet box that's in his luggage in the trunk. "I was just hoping the Betas don't create too much mess while we're gone."

If Stiles catches the lie, he doesn't show it. "Well, if they do, we can punish them when we get back, can't we? Make them clean it and then deprive them of baked goods."

"And I can push them extra hard in training."

"Now you're talking," Stiles grins, squeezing Derek's leg. He leaves his hand there for the rest of the drive, which does a great deal to ease Derek's nerves.

Half an hour later, they arrive.

Stiles gasps next to him. "Wow! I know you said it'd be like a winter wonderland, but _wow_."

Derek can understand the reaction. He picked the place out with Lydia's help and had seen pictures, but he's still surprised by how perfect everything looks in person. He switches off the engine of his Camaro and hops out to get a better look, his breath misting the air in front of his face.

The little cabin stands in front of him with a porch, walls made of horizontal logs and a roof covered in pure-white snow. There's snow everywhere, in fact. It blankets the ground beneath his feet and hangs from every branch of the dense trees that surround the clearing in which the cabin was built. In jeans, a white T-shirt and his signature leather jacket, even Derek, with the high body heat of a werewolf, feels the cold. He shivers as he imagines how amazing it will be once they get inside and have the fire going. That had been one of the things he looked forward to most once he committed to the idea of bringing Stiles somewhere like this—getting some thick blankets and cuddling up together with some hot chocolate in front of a roaring fire.

"Come on," Derek says, noticing that Stiles is starting to shiver next to him as well. They have proper winter clothing in their luggage, but neither of them had the forethought that morning to dress in any of it. "Let's go inside."

"Do you know if we'll get reception up here?" Stiles enquires, walking with him to the trunk of the car.

"The couple who rented to us said yes, but it's spotty. Why?"

"I wanna let my Dad know we got here safely. I don't want him to worry."

"How about this: we'll get our stuff inside, and then you can call him while I take care of the generator. Sound like a plan?"

Stiles pecks him on his bristly cheek. "Thanks, Sourwolf."

"Don't mention it."

* * *

The next morning, Derek wakes up feeling warm and content buried beneath a mountain of blankets. He lies on his side and spoons Stiles from behind, both of them just wearing underwear. He wraps his arms tighter around Stiles, presses his nose to the back of the human's neck and relishes both his intoxicating scent and the intimate sensation of skin on skin.

Sometimes he still can't believe he gets to have this now. It would've been unthinkable eight years ago, when he returned to Beacon Hills in search of his missing sister and met Scott and Stiles that fateful day in the preserve.

Derek smiles as he recalls how he and Stiles constantly seemed to bicker and disagree with each other, and yet they'd always saved and protected each other when it really counted. Looking back, the signs were there right from the start. The line between love and hate is a thin one, as the saying goes, and that was definitely true in their case.

Derek doesn't even remember when things changed between them. He supposes it wasn't one big thing, like flipping a switch. It was a series of little things, so gradual that he never noticed what was happening until Erica pointed out to him that he and Stiles were acting like an old married couple. She'd gone on to suggest that they just fuck already because the sexual tension between them was killing her.

The revelation had terrified Derek at first. How could it not, when he'd been taught again and again that relationships led only to pain and death? But it was _Stiles_. Stiles had never hurt him like that, and Derek trusted him with his life. So he decided to trust him with his heart too, and he hasn't regretted it.

All of that led them to where they are now, and it's Derek sincerest wish that they really _will_ be an old married couple in a few decades, once Derek has given Stiles the most important Christmas present he has ever given anyone. God, he hopes it goes well, that he doesn't fumble his words or chicken out entirely. The latter can't happen, no matter what.

Lydia would never let him hear the end of it.

With a sigh, Derek holds a slumbering Stiles for a few more minutes before his bladder has him reluctantly getting out of bed. Thanks to the generator, it's warm enough that he doesn't have to bother putting on more clothes after his quick trip to the bathroom. He walks back out into the bedroom and considers climbing back into bed next to Stiles. It's incredibly tempting—his mate looks so soft and snuggly—but his stomach chooses that moment to rumble loudly, making his mind up for him. Stiles will also be hungry when he wakes up, so Derek'll make them both some breakfast using the groceries the couple who own the cabin had kindly stocked the cupboards and fridge with for them. Then they can eat together in bed. A lazy morning sounds perfect.

Walking out into the cabin's open-plan living-room/kitchen, Derek's gaze is drawn to the tall tree standing in one corner, near the fireplace. The lights are off, but he appreciates the sight of it nevertheless. His pack had an early Christmas celebration a couple days ago, in which Derek and Stiles had received gifts from all the others and gave them theirs in return. Because of this, all that's beneath the tree here are the few presents that he and Stiles got each other this year. All except for one—the most important one, which remains hidden at the very bottom of Derek's suitcase. His heart beats just a bit faster with the thought that the moment of truth is so damn close now.

After he's got breakfast going, the smell of bacon and pancakes dashes Derek's plans for breakfast in bed. Stiles appears as he's plating everything up, also just wearing underwear. Derek gets lost staring at all that pale, mole-dotted skin before he shakes his head and turns off the burner beneath the frying pan. He subtly adjusts himself in hopes that Stiles won't notice, but it's a lost cause because his boxer-briefs are tight enough that there's no hope in hell of him hiding the growing bulge in them. He gets a raised eyebrow from his mate when he looks his way again.

"Shut up," Derek mumbles. He smiles despite himself when he hears Stiles' mellifluous laugh.

"Smells good," the younger man says, stepping up behind Derek and hugging him. "You're so good to me."

"I try."

"And I appreciate it. Merry Christmas, Sourwolf."

"Merry Christmas," Derek echoes.

Being the cheeky shit that he is, Stiles slides one of his hands down Derek's hair-dusted abs and gives his rapidly swelling cock a squeeze before releasing him entirely. He takes a seat at the round kitchen table with an impish grin.

"You're evil," Derek tells him, his boxers tented obscenely now.

"I know, but it's just too fun." Like Derek had checked him out before, Stiles runs his eyes up and down Derek's body and hums his approval. "Besides, I'm enjoying the view."

"Keep it up and the food'll go cold," Derek warns him.

Stiles flutters his eyelashes. "Why? You won't be able to stop from jumping my bones here and now?"

"Exactly."

"What a shame that would be. How would I cope?"

Derek huffs and transfers their plates to the table with cutlery and syrup. "Shut up and eat the breakfast I painstakingly cooked for you."

"Yes, Sir," Stiles says with a salute and a wink.

* * *

Once they've devoured their food and given each other the presents beneath the tree, Derek looks up from his seat on the sofa when Stiles emerges from the bedroom. He's all covered up now, wearing his full winter gear—hat, gloves, scarf, the whole nine yards. Derek would never say it aloud, at least not in the company of anyone but Stiles himself, but he thinks his mate looks very cute.

"C'mon, Der. It's time!" Stiles says excitedly.

"Time for what?" Derek asks, even though it's pretty damn obvious.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles stalks forward, grabs Derek's hand and pulls him up off of the sofa. His blanket falls to the floor, exposing his mostly naked body. "Snow, Derek. _Snow_."

Derek fights off a smirk and acts dumb. "What about it?"

"Seriously? How often do we get to see snow? Here's a spoiler: pretty much never," Stiles tells him, gesticulating wildly. "We've gotta make the most of this while we're here. We could make like Anna and Elsa from _Frozen_ and build that damn snowman Anna was always singing about."

Stiles' enthusiasm is infectious, and Derek can't help himself. "Fine. Just never remind me of that movie again."

"Oh c'mon, it's a classic!"

"It's annoying, is what it is…"

Derek hears his mate call him a grumpy bastard under his breath as he heads into the bedroom to dress himself in his own winter gear. He considers dragging the time out just to annoy Stiles some more, but he doesn't have it in him. Despite how he acted out in the living room, he too is excited about being somewhere cold enough for snow for a change. He enjoys living in California, but the near-constant sun and warmth does become occasionally tiring, especially this time of year. He had a couple Christmases that were close to white when he was in New York, but they were nothing like this. And even if they were, he wasn't in a festive mood back then.

With that thought, Derek grabs his gloves out of his suitcase, the final thing, and reenters the living room and spots Stiles practically vibrating with excitement by the front door. "Calm down," Derek tells him amusedly. "We've got plenty of time. The snow's not gonna melt."

"It will if you take any longer!" Stiles whines.

He's not acting like his twenty-five years at all, and Derek lets him. Such pure excitement can be hard to find in their lives, so why not indulge in it when it comes?

"Alright, I'm coming," Derek relents, putting on his gloves. He opens the door and steps out into the snow, Stiles hot on his heels.

"God, I forgot how stunning it was!" the human exclaims, turning in a circle to take everything in.

Derek rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Are we building this stupid snowman or what?"

"Oh, right! Yeah, let's do it!"

For the next few minutes, Stiles and Derek work together to construct their ephemeral masterpiece. Derek takes care of making the largest ball of snow while Stiles rolls the ones for the middle and the head, and then Stiles tasks him with finding stuff for the snowman's face while he searches for the two perfect twigs to turn into arms.

Derek doesn't offer one genuine complaint. He gripes, sure, but feeling like a little kid again is nice, and he can tell from how Stiles smiles at him that the younger man knows he's just putting on an act.

Derek finds a carrot from the fridge and some coal that's in an old grill next to the logs of firewood piled up against the side of the cabin. The coal stains his gloves a bit, but it's worth it to see the grin that stretches Stiles' mouth wide when he returns to the snowman with his items in hand.

"Does it live up to your expectations?" Derek enquires once he thinks it's complete.

"Almost. There's just one thing missing."

"And what's that?"

"Gimme your scarf, Sourwolf."

Derek unwinds it from around his neck, hands it over and watches as Stiles puts it on the snowman instead.

"There. Now it's perfect," Stiles says.

Derek thinks the smile is crooked and one arm is quite a bit smaller than the other, but he doesn't rain on his mate's parade. He turns to suggest they head back inside the cabin now that the fun's over, and that's when something cold hits him square in the face. Sputtering, Derek stumbles back a few steps and wipes the snow out of his eyes. He blinks and searches the surrounding area for Stiles, but he can't track him down. Not right away.

When he hears something behind him, he ducks just in time to avoid being hit by another snowball.

"Hey!" Derek yells, spinning around with a feigned glare.

"What's the matter, Sourwolf?" Stiles taunts, already holding another frosty weapon. "Afraid you'll lose?"

Derek huffs. "Rules?"

"First one to get hit five times loses," Stiles says. "And you've already been hit once. Sucks to be you."

"I'm confident I can make a comeback."

"Prove it."

Suddenly, Stiles throws his snowball. Derek darts off to the side and doesn't stop until he's around the other side of the cabin and out of Stiles' sight. He debates whether or not he should use his enhanced senses to gain the upper hand and very quickly comes to the conclusion that yes, he should. Stiles hadn't said anything about _not_ using them, after all, and if he ends up having a problem with it, he should've spoken up when he had the chance.

With a mischievous grin, Derek scoops up some snow and moulds it into a ball with his hands. He listens closely and hears Stiles trying to creep around the side of the cabin after him. He can't make it that easy, so he heads for the tree line. Once he's safely hidden, he expertly climbs one of the trees and makes some more snowballs using the snow that's collected on the branches closest to him. By this point, Stiles has appeared from around the corner of the cabin, and Derek observes like the predator he is as his prey uses the footprints Derek left in the snow to track him. It's smart, but not smart enough.

As soon as Stiles is within range, Derek lobs his first snowball. It's a direct hit, getting Stiles on the shoulder.

"Hey!" Stiles squawks, obviously not expecting such an attack.

"Something wrong?" Derek calls. He folds up the bottom of his coat and uses it to hold his four remaining snowballs as he transfers silently to a different branch.

Stiles whispers, "Cheater…" just loudly enough for Derek to catch. Stifling a laugh, Derek picks up his second snowball and waits to see what Stiles will do next.

He doesn't have to wait long. After just another few seconds, Stiles follows the rest of the footprints and moves into the trees as well, taking away Derek's line of sight. He still has his ears to help him out, though, so he isn't that worried. He's glad when Stiles doesn't attempt to scale a tree as well, because with how clumsy his mate can be, he doesn't want their romantic winter getaway to be ruined by a broken arm or something.

He can sense Stiles close by. And then…

"Gotcha!" the human cries, throwing a snowball up at where he believes Derek is hiding. It's not even close.

"Nice try," Derek laughs, getting cocky. He's sure that Stiles is directly beneath him now, so he releases his hold on the bottom of his coat and lets all four snowballs drop. He knows at least one of them hits its target from the way Stiles curses up a storm.

Stiles makes a hasty retreat now that the score is no longer in his favour. Derek can see him again, but he's out of projectiles to throw. Feeling charitable, he jumps down from the concealment of the trees and races after Stiles, bending down to scoop up some fresh snow as he goes. Stiles is on to him this time, and it quickly devolves into a messy war as snowballs go flying everywhere. Derek hits his mate another two times with little trouble, his aim and coordination unparalleled as always, but Stiles also manages to get three more lucky shots in by the time that Derek is readying his final snowball. Then they face each other motionlessly in a standoff.

"Whatcha gonna do?" Stiles asks him.

"I dunno. That's up to you," Derek smirks, juggling his snowball from hand to hand.

They both stare at each other for a long time, each waiting to see what the other will do. It goes on for so long that Derek soon sees Stiles begin to shiver. This brings out his protective instincts, and he knows he has to end their game before his mate freezes.

Doesn't mean he's going to lose, though.

Decision made, Derek runs forward, surprising Stiles into dropping his snowball. With his own still in hand, Derek closes the distance between them so fast that his mate can't even think about running away. He tackles Stiles to the ground and straddles his waist, one hand in the snow next to Stiles' head. He drops his last snowball so that it hits Stiles' shoulder and then rolls off to sink into the snow.

"I think I win," he says smugly.

"You're still a dirty cheater," Stiles tells him with a pout.

"Nah, you're just a sore loser," Derek refutes, his expression softening. He can't resist leaning down and kissing Stiles, a growl emanating from his chest when he feels Stiles' long fingers in his hair.

When the kiss ends, Derek gets up and holds out a hand for his mate to take. "C'mon, let's go get you warmed up, make use of that fireplace."

"Sounds like a great idea."

Stiles takes the proffered hand and doesn't release it even when he's firmly on his feet again. He follows Derek back inside the cabin, letting go of him only when he needs to strip out of his wet clothes, and then Derek moves the coffee table out of the way and orders Stiles to sit on the middle of the rug in front of the sofa, where the heat from the fireplace will seep into his bones quicker. Derek stokes the blaze with a fire poker, retrieves the blanket from where it fell when Stiles forced him to go outside and sits down behind the younger man, cradling him between his legs. The final touches are to wrap the blanket around both of them and then to wrap Stiles up in his arms, using the blanket, his body heat, and the fire to warm him up.

"Thanks for this," Stiles says sleepily, tired from their fun. He sinks back into Derek's body and leans his head on Derek's broad shoulder. "Best mate ever."

"I aim to please," Derek says, kissing the top of Stiles' head.

* * *

That evening, Stiles and Derek are again down by the fire after having dinner, both sitting in the exact same positions as before. For the past while, Derek has just sat with his eyes closed and enjoyed the moment, but he's gradually becoming aware that time is ticking on, and if he wants to give Stiles this year's final present, he'd better get on with it. He nudges Stiles so that he can get up and retrieve the velvet box from his luggage in the bedroom.

"But you're so comfortable!" Stiles grumbles.

"I've got one last present to give you," Derek tells him. "Unless you don't want it…"

This gets the reaction Derek expected. Stiles immediately moves out of the way, and Derek chuckles to himself as he heads into the bedroom. When he has the box, he hides it behind his back, reenters the living room and comes to sit in front of Stiles instead of behind him. He's awed by how the warm glow of the flames in the fireplace is reflected in his mate's eyes, turning their whiskey colour into something almost otherworldly.

"So where's this present?" Stiles asks him. He doesn't sound as childishly excited as he had when Derek gave him his other gifts that morning. He must be able to tell that this is different.

"First, I need to say something. It's gonna be hard for me to get through, so…don't interrupt me, okay?" Derek entreaties.

Stiles touches his knee. "I promise."

"Before I met you," Derek starts, giving his mate the speech he'd painstakingly prepared weeks ago, "I had no family to speak of. I was completely alone. I didn't know what to do with myself or if I'd even keep living once I found the person who killed Laura and got justice for her murder. And then you came along, this smart-mouthed teenager who was too curious and determined for his own good, who wouldn't leave me alone no matter how many times I shoved him around or was rude to him. We weren't fans of each other at all back then, yet we saved each other's lives on more than one occasion, until things just sort of…clicked."

Realisation dawns on Stiles' face as Derek speaks, but as promised, he doesn't interrupt.

"I can still remember the day I realised that what I felt for you wasn't hatred, or even dislike," Derek reveals. "You still annoyed the hell out of me from time to time, but I was also falling in love with you. It terrified me, and I tried to deny it for months, but when the Nogitsune happened and I almost lost you…I couldn't deny my feelings anymore. It wasn't easy for me—I mean, you were there, so you know it wasn't—but I got my shit together and ever since then, you've done nothing but make me the happiest I've been in I don't even know how long. And I never want it to stop. I want you to keep making me happy. I want to keep making you happy in return, to give you everything I am for the rest of my life, in all ways possible. And so…"

Derek brings his arm around from behind his back, opens the velvet box, and presents the ring inside to Stiles.

"Stiles Stilinski, will you marry me?"

Stiles is crying by this point, silent tears rolling down his cheeks and his lower lip wobbling. He nods jerkily before sobbing out a, "Yes!" and throwing his arms around Derek's neck. He holds him tightly as he fights to regain control of himself, sniffling into his mate's neck. Derek embraces him back with just as much feeling, and then Stiles pulls away and holds out his hand.

The ring is simple. Derek hadn't thought something fancy would suit either of their tastes, so with Lydia's help, he ended up choosing a silver band with a single red gem on it—the colour of his true eyes, so that Stiles is always reminded of him even when they're apart.

"It's beautiful," Stiles says. "I love it."

"I'm glad. Lydia thought it would be too simple. It made her mad, but I stuck to my guns."

"I think I'd love it no matter what it looked like because it came from you, but you did good, Sourwolf."

Derek bashfully ducks his head, incredibly pleased with the way things have gone. As he told himself yesterday, he was sure Stiles would say yes, but there were still those niggling doubts in the back of his mind, insecurities that festered no matter how much logic he used. They're gone now, and it's a relief the likes of which Derek has never felt before.

After a few more moments spent admiring the ring, Stiles looks up at him with an unmistakable heat in his eyes. "You wanna…?" he asks flirtatiously.

Derek doesn't respond verbally but pushes Stiles to lie on his back so that he can get on top of him and kiss him senseless. He insinuates himself between Stiles' thighs and slides his tongue past Stiles' lips when he parts them willingly, deepening the kiss until it leaves him breathless. He feels his mate tugging at his clothes and, agreeing that they both need to be naked as soon as possible, he breaks the kiss just long enough to rip off his henley and Stiles' sweater. Their sweats are next, and then he gets right back to it, devouring Stiles' mouth and grinding their cocks together with filthy rolls of his hips that have Stiles gasping into his mouth.

When he really does run out of oxygen, Derek sits up and looks down at his mate, admiring the leanness of his body. As he stares, his cock throbbing and heavy between his muscular legs, Stiles throws his arms above his head and stretches out, showing himself off for his new fiancé. Derek knows his eyes are glowing red now and doesn't do a thing to stop them. From the beginning of their relationship, Stiles has been very vocal about how much Derek's Alpha eyes turn him on, and sure enough, Derek can detect a spike in the arousal permeating the air. It practically fills the whole cabin.

"Like what you see?" Stiles grins. He tips his head back, drawing Derek's attention to his long neck.

"Stiles…" Derek growls, nostrils flaring.

"Yes, Sourwolf?"

Unable to say no to the veritable feast in front of him, Derek leans down and latches his mouth onto the side of Stiles' neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin to leave his mark. Stiles arches up beneath him, a loud moan escaping his lips as he wraps his arms around Derek's shoulders and holds on for the ride. Derek doesn't stop until Stiles' neck is a mosaic of hickeys and faint teeth marks, appeasing the possessive animal side of him.

Then he moves south. He sucks on Stiles' nipples until they're swollen and raw, dips his tongue into Stiles' belly button and finally swallows his cut cock whole, the head hitting the back of his throat. It almost triggers his gag reflex, but Derek suppresses it and bobs his head slowly up and down, not wanting to make Stiles come but keeping him aroused enough that it hurts. His eyelids flutter as the taste of Stiles' pre-come bursts across his tastebuds, bitter and yet so delicious.

"Derek, please!" Stiles begs eventually, close to pulling out his own hair. "Need you inside me."

How can Derek deny such a pretty request?

He releases Stiles' cock with a wet pop and pushes Stiles' legs back to gain access to his hole. After the day they've had, the scent of him here is slightly musky, but Derek loves it all the same. He licks once, twice over Stiles' most intimate place and then seals his lips around it as he prods at it with his tongue, seeking entrance. Stiles keeps moaning above him, his hands around the backs of his knees to keep his legs out of the way as Derek all but makes out with his asshole, sliding his tongue inside as deep as he can when it finally relaxes enough for him to do so. Stiles' inner walls are so hot around him that it makes him moan too, the sound enhanced by another growl that vibrates up his throat and into Stiles' body.

By the time he stops, they're both a mess. Stiles is practically incoherent and Derek has managed to get saliva all over his beard. He wipes it off on the back of his hand before sucking a couple fingers into his mouth to get them wet. He brought lube with him to the cabin, but he left it in the bedroom and there's no way he's leaving Stiles for even a second to get it. Spit will have to do. They've used it before, when the mood has struck them with no warning, and as long as they're careful, they've found with experience that it's a decent substitute.

His fingers slicked up, Derek inserts them both into Stiles' hole and seeks out his prostate right away. He knows he's found it when Stiles cries out and his whole body goes rigid atop the rug. He looks positively stunning in the throes of pleasure, and Derek drinks in the sight of him as he scissors his fingers apart, preparing him for his thick cock.

Stiles' normally pale skin is made warm by the fire still burning away to Derek's right. It casts shadows that bring the dips and planes of Stiles' lithe muscles into stark relief, highlighting just how much he's grown into his body over the years they've been together.

With third and fourth fingers, Derek deems Stiles prepared enough for him. He doesn't think he's capable of waiting any longer anyway.

"You ready?" he asks, just in case.

"God, yes…" Stiles rasps, dropping his legs and curling them around Derek's waist. It's an invitation if Derek's ever seen one.

"Gonna make love to you all night," Derek promises, spitting in his palm and using his own saliva to slick up his cock. With that done, he aims the head at Stiles' hole. He leans over him and rests their foreheads together as he begins pushing inside. At nine inches long, it's a long process, inch by torturous inch surrounded by tight heat that's like nothing else.

By the time he's fully sheathed, both lovers are breathing heavily, sharing the same air.

"You feel…" Stiles gasps. He rests a hand on the back of Derek's neck and clenches even tighter around the thick intrusion of his mate's cock.

"I know," Derek responds, just as affected.

It's good every time, but there's just something about being inside of Stiles tonight that makes it extra special. He knows just what it is—their emotions have been stirred up by the proposal, and after the little speech he gave, Derek feels particularly vulnerable. He opens his eyes to find that Stiles has already done the same, and it's like Stiles is looking into his very core, like he can see everything Derek is. The love and desire that's in Stiles' eyes makes him okay with baring his soul like this. Stiles is the only one he would trust to see all of him because there's not a doubt in his mind that the younger man would never use what he sees to hurt him.

"Move, Sourwolf," Stiles murmurs, running his fingers through Derek's hair.

Derek complies. He withdraws until just the head of his cock remains inside Stiles' body, and then he thrusts back inside syrupy slow. It's unhurried, their eye contact never breaking.

They share sweet kisses as it goes on, as Derek maintains the current pace with no intention of speeding it up. That's not what this is about. Fast and dirty sex definitely has its place in their sex life, but tonight, Derek just wants it to be soft and romantic, showing a side of himself he thought Kate viciously killed all those years ago. But then Stiles revived it, and now Derek brings it out in private moments like these.

He endures the teasing from Erica, the jibes from Peter and the fake gagging from Jackson and Scott. It's all worth it just to see the way Stiles gets this lovesick little grin on his face, like he can hardly believe that Derek is his.

Derek understands the feeling, because he still has trouble believing that Stiles is his every single day.

"So good," Stiles whispers, kissing Derek affectionately as he's filled up again.

Derek concurs, the pleasure building so slowly that it almost sneaks up on him. He hits Stiles' prostate with one of his thrusts, causing Stiles to finally break their connection by tipping his head back, his bottom lip held between his teeth. Derek buries his nose in Stiles' neck and greedily inhales his scent. It's so well mixed with his own by this point that he can barely distinguish between them, like they're one. Derek doesn't think it's possible to feel closer to another person than he feels in that moment.

Sweat slicks his skin by the time he feels his orgasm approaching. The base of his cock throbs as his knot begins to swell, making it more difficult to sheathe himself to the hilt inside of Stiles' body. Stiles obviously notices it too, his moans getting louder and pitching higher every time Derek forces his knot past his rim, stretching it wider and wider. Derek wanted to keep it slow, but when he thrusts all the way inside for the final time, he has to snap his hips fast to do it, popping his knot past the feeble resistance Stiles' hole offers up. Then he stays there, hips flush to Stiles' ass cheeks as his knot swells the rest of the way, tying them together.

His orgasm impending, Derek scrunches his eyes shut tight and bites down on Stiles' neck with blunt human teeth as it overtakes him. His cock jerks wildly, painting his fiancé's insides with his thick come.

Stiles holds him through it, praising him, telling him how much he loves him. Derek shudders, coming undone completely as he finishes pouring his love into his mate.

When it's over, Derek stays where he is for a few minutes more, just breathing and enjoying Stiles' arms around him, his hands stroking up and down his back, and then he picks himself up and looks between their bodies. He feels bad when he sees that Stiles' cock is still hard, pre-come leaking copiously from the flushed head. Derek wraps his hand around it and uses the bitter fluid to stroke him gently, rolling his own hips at the same time to make his knot press against Stiles' prostate. Mere seconds later, his mate shoots like a rocket, covering himself with his own come. Derek is satisfied when some of it hits his chest too, marking him.

Both sated now, Derek rolls them over so that he's on his back and Stiles is draped on top of him, not caring about the fluids drying between them. The fire keeps them warm now that the passion is over. At least for now.

"Tired," Stiles says into his neck, thoroughly worn out.

"Sleep," Derek tells him, kissing his temple. "We can go for round two after a nap."

Stiles' smile is audible in his voice as he slurs, "Sounds like a plan."

A few seconds later, Derek hears a quiet snore and closes his own eyes with the thought that this was the best Christmas he has ever had.

Here's to many more.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here's my contribution to the holidays this year. :D If you'd like to read the fic I wrote for Christmas 2017, _Make a Wish and it Just Might Come True_ , you can find it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13130604). It was nice to write something that was basically pure fluff for a change. I love writing and reading kinky shit as much as the next patron of this site, but some pure romantic smut hits the spot every now and then. I'd like to say a big thank you to Vergiss_Mein_Nicht for giving me this prompt. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be, and that you didn't mind me slipping a marriage proposal in there as well. I just couldn't resist. XD
> 
> Stay tuned for my next work, the finale of my fic [_You Belong with Me_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16561259), in which Scott confronts Stiles and then Derek makes good on his promise to let Stiles tap his hairy ass. Top!Stiles/bottom!Derek, obviously.
> 
> **P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future fics go live, which will all be Sterek. And please check out my past fics if you haven't already and are interested.**


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